


One Arm Makes A Poor Errand Boy

by with_wit_and_perfect_timing



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes's Notebooks, Bucky Barnes's Plums, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Gen, Grocery Shopping, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Modern Bucky Barnes, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8222785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/with_wit_and_perfect_timing/pseuds/with_wit_and_perfect_timing
Summary: AU: While on the run from the government, Steve and Bucky tackle the modern world like grocery shopping, while battling each other through passive aggressive angst.





	

It had been a few days since Steve and Bucky had moved into the safe house. Steve had gotten them settled in a remote little town in Utah. “Just to lay low, until we figure something out long term,” Steve had told him.

  
            The house was cozy, quiet, and everything that Buck would normally love. Normally. Two bedrooms, a bathroom, a tiny kitchen, a dining room, and a lounge. The bedrooms were stationed on two separate sides of the house, with a bathroom somewhere in between. The kitchen consisted of a gas stove, a microwave, a small fridge, and a tiny counter to place things while preparing food.  The lounge was the biggest room, with a sofa, a loveseat, a modest television, and a bookshelf of novels. The house was quiet, peaceful, and most of all secluded. Everything that Bucky would love in a home.

  
            But Bucky hated this house. It wasn’t the house itself, really. It was more of the _idea_ of the house. Steve would never let him go past the property line, for fear of him getting caught. He only allowed Bucky to tour the land around the house, which wasn’t much at all. Meanwhile, Steve would spend hours on his laptop, doing who knows what.

 

            _Probably trying to figure out which button is the space bar._ Bucky thought to himself.

 

            All Bucky could do was wander aimlessly and compulsively around the house.

  
            It did give him some comfort, however, walking around the house ten times a day, recognizing everything; all the furniture was familiar. Sometimes he would memorize the way some objects looked, like the small potted plant three feet from the front door, or the painting of fruit on the wall outside his bedroom.

            He would walk around the house once, memorize the way everything looks, and then walk around again, remembering everything. It helped, in some way. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but it always satisfied him.

  
            Steve should’ve noticed Bucky’s lack of weight, sleep, and general emotional responsiveness, but they hardly spoke if it wasn’t needed. Bucky read as much as he could bear, whereas Steve would be on that dumb laptop with a scary, serious look on his face.

  
            It took Bucky a week and a half to think of a way to escape this damned house.

  
            “Steve, we’re out of food.”

  
            The words didn’t quite register with Steve until about thirty seconds after Bucky said them.

             “What do you mean we’re out?” Steve said, his eyes still glued to the computer screen.

              
            Bucky ran his fingers methodically across the books of the bookshelf, taking mental notes of the titles. _The Scarlet Letter, Little Women, Hamlet, Peter Pan, 1984. The Scarlet Letter, Little Women, Hamlet, Peter Pan, 1984. The Scarlet Letter, Little Women, Hamlet, Peter Pan, 1984.  
_ He hated the unnecessary irritation in Steve’s voice. It was rare, and it stung.  

            He sighed.  “Meaning, we need to get more.”

  
            Steve concentrated on his screen.

  
            “Can I go to the store?” Bucky asked, absentmindedly stacking books on the sofa arm.

   
            “‘I’?” Steve repeated, finally looking up from his computer.

  
            “Yeah.”

  
            “How long would we be able to last without leaving the house?”

  
            Bucky could see that Steve understood his plan to escape. “About... _fifteen minutes_.” Buck knew he should’ve smiled to lighten the sarcasm, but he didn’t.

  
            Steve took his laptop, placed it on the love seat and stood up. “So, you want to go grocery shopping?”

  
            Bucky wanted to roll his eyes into the back of his head with a sigh, but instead he muttered a repressed “Yes.”

  
            “I can’t let you go alone, you know that.”

  
            “And why the hell not?”

  
            “Because - God, Buck!” Steve’s voice got a little louder than normal, and Bucky flinched. Steve caught himself, and calmed. “There’s a small store on the outskirts of town. _We_ will get some food there.”

  
            Bucky clenched his jaw. “I don’t need a babysitter, Steve.”

  
            “I’m not letting you go alone, we can’t risk it.”   
  
            The mart wasn’t small, and it certainly wasn’t deserted. To Steve, this was good. It would take the attention off of them while they bought some grub. To Buck, it was nerve wracking. He would never tell Rogers this, but he was terrified to leave the house. Terrified of people seeing him, of being out in the open. What would people think?  But he was even more terrified of what would happen to him if he didn’t.

  
            “Did you make a list?” Bucky asked. They were standing with their cart in the produce area, both gripping the cart’s handlebar.

  
            “Now, when could I have done _that_?” Steve said rhetorically.

            “Before we left, like I did,” Bucky answered, holding a slip of paper with scribbles up to Steve’s face.

  
            Steve didn’t quite understand why Buck was acting up like this, but he chose to ignore it. Bucky tucked the list back into his jacket pocket.

  
            “Why don’t you take a basket and we can divide and conquer?” Steve clearly wanted to leave as soon as possible.

  
            Bucky stared at the ground, his cheeks hot. “Can’t really do that.”

  
            _For God’s sakes, Bucky, what the heck,_ Steve wanted to say. “Why?” he replied.

  
            Bucky smirked, but his eyes were sad. “One arm makes a poor errand boy,” he said, waving his only hand in front of him.

  
            The only think Steve could do was clear his throat and turn as red as the radishes they were standing next to. “Awh, Bucky, I-I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

  
            After Buck didn’t answer, Steve reached and took the list from his jacket pocket. He scanned the first few items and returned the paper to Barnes.

  
            “I’ll get the first couple items and I’ll be back. You keep the cart and the list,” Steve explained, but before he could take off, Bucky quietly said, “Why can’t you take the list?”

  
            “Because I can remember the first few items…” He didn’t realize the problem until it was too late.

  
            “What’s wrong with my memory?” Bucky challenged.

  
            _That’s it. That’s quite enough._

  
            Without being too aggressive or conspicuous, Steve pulled Buck aside so his mouth was near Buck’s ear. “Look, don’t do this. Not here, not now.” And then he was gone.

  
            It took Bucky a minute to recover. All he could do was stare at the floor and tighten his jaw and fist. His throat closed up, and he bit his lip. He had been practicing...trying to get better, he really had. Why didn’t Steve see that? He even remembered the book titles from the house.

_The Scarlet Letter, Little Women... Hamlet, Peter...Pan? What was next? Dang it, 19...19. Damn!_ Buck took a deep breath and gripped the list in his hand.

  
            After the few items had been obtained, such as chicken broth, Honey Nut Cheerios, and three loaves of bread, Steve and Bucky were soon sharing the same aisle. Steve had his items in his basket. Two gallons of milk, a dozen eggs, and a variety of meats.

  
            “Can I see that list one more time?” Steve requested casually, pretending that the last time he had asked Bucky to do something, he had given him goosebumps.

  
            Without words or eye contact, Bucky held out the list to him. Steve hesitated for a moment, wondering what his problem was. But finally, he took the list, silently reading the remaining food. While he was looking at tomato sauces, Bucky was surprised to hear a small startled chuckle from Steve. It took all the dignity he had to not ask what was the matter.

  
            Luckily, Steve answered it anyway. “Since when,” he laughed, “do you like plums?”

  
            Bucky didn’t remember putting those on the list, but he wasn’t really surprised either. “They calm me,” he said, shoving his hand in his back pocket.

  
            Steve looked at the list one last time and frowned thoughtfully. Then he folded the list and put it back in the cart. He started transferring his basket items to the cart.“Why don’t we…” he said slowly, “get the rest of these groceries, you know...together.”

  
            Bucky had run out of energy to put up a fight. “Yeah.” he agreed half-heartedly, which was better than no heartedly.

  
            Steve nodded and took the cart into his own hands, both literally and metaphorically. Bucky followed Steve around, his one hand gripping the side of the cart like a kindergartener who just got yelled at by his mother. Steve glided around the store with his squeaky cart and a Bucky in tow. Buck was fascinated with how natural Steve looked, reading food labels and politely smiling at the other customers.

 

            How did he look so normal? There were foods Bucky didn’t even know existed. _What the hell is marshmallow fluff?_

  
            Steve had just gotten the last item when he patted his pants. He groaned and said, “I left my wallet in the car. Wait here; man the cart.”

  
            Bucky so desperately wanted to protest but Steve left so fast, all he could do was scream internally and hope that nothing slipped out. He kept his eyes on the ground, wanting to disappear.

  
            “Excuse me.” He heard a polite voice next to him in the behind him in the aisle. With dread weighing down on his shoulders, Bucky looked up to see a beautiful woman with her toddler, both smiling at him.

 

            “Ehm, can I get by?” the woman asked timidly. Her cart consisted of her child, and about a million things you need to raise one.

  
            Buck nervously tried to maneuver the cart with one arm as quickly as possible, but ended up hitting his cart against hers. Desperation and anxiety rose in his throat. “I’m sorry...sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said quietly.

  
            “It’s okay!” The woman beamed. As she looked through assorted pastas, her toddler stared at him, tilting her head to the side.

  
            “What’s your name?” she asked in a confident voice. Bucky really wanted to believe that she wasn’t talking to him, but they were the only ones in the aisle.

  
            “My name is Bucky.” He smiled at her (something he learned from Steve). “And what’s your name?”

  
            The little girl was absolutely thrilled that he asked for her name. “I’m Scarlet.” she said, covering her face bashfully. Bucky guessed that the confidence was a one-time thing.

  
            _Scarlet...Scarlet? The Scarlet Letter, Little Women...Hamlet, Peter... Pan, 19...84! That’s the one! 84!_ He _could_ remember the books. Suck on that, Rogers.

  
            Bucky grinned. Scarlet, a beautiful name.

  
            The little girl pointed to his empty sleeve. “Where’d your arm go?” she asked.

  
            Now this caught the mother’s attention. She turned bright red or, well, as bright as caramel can go.

  
            Bucky reached over to the empty sleeve and squeezed it to show there was no arm in there. “Hm,” he said thoughtfully, “It seems that I have misplaced it.”

  
            The mom laughs anxiously and whispers something in her daughter’s ear. Scarlet smiles bashfully, and her mother takes a few steps down the aisle to continue looking for food.

  
            “My mom’s name is Elizabeth,” she boasted, obviously proud of her people-naming skills.

  
            Buck laughed a little, and looked up to see Steve entering the store, clutching his wallet. “Well, it was nice to meet you both,” Bucky said.

  
               Steve walked over to him and took the cart. He noticed the subtle change in Bucky’s behavior and smirked a little to himself.

  
            “Bye, Bucky!” called Scarlet, waving frantically to get his attention before he left the aisle.

  
            Bucky faced her, walking backwards. He grabbed his empty sleeve and held it up to give her an invisible wave. Scarlet loved that. They could still hear her laugh as they got in line at the cash register.

  
            “You told her your name was Bucky?” Steve asked, putting the groceries on the conveyer belt.

  
            Bucky scratched the nape of his neck. “Scarlet? Yeah.”

  
            Oh no, now Steve was going to get mad because Bucky used his name, and give him the speech he’s given a million times, about how they need to lay low. But rather than disappointment that took over Steve’s face, it was pride.

  
            They were peacefully silent until they got to the car and filled the backseat with the bags of food. Buck slid into the passenger seat, shut the door, and awaited the sound of a starting engine. When he didn’t, he looked over to Steve, who was sitting forward, staring ahead in disbelief.

  
            Bucky’s chest tightened. “What’s wrong?” he asked nervously.

  
            “Did you really make friends with a little girl in the store just now?”

  
            Buck turned red, but couldn’t help grinning. “We barely spoke. Her mom didn’t even talk to me.”

  
            “Maybe, but she was definitely lookin’ at ya.”

  
            Buck’s eyes widened and he punched Steve in the arm. “She had a kid!” he exclaimed.

  
            Steve nodded. “Yeah, but she didn’t have a ring.”

  
            Bucky was quiet for a second, trying to remember if she had a ring. He couldn’t recall ever seeing one, but then again, he wasn’t looking. Steve was.

  
            Something caught Bucky’s eye. “What’s in your hand?” he asked Steve.

  
            Rogers revealed a dark purple sphere. A plum. He smirked and bit into it. “Looks like you still have good taste.” He sniggered, pink juice dribbling down his chin.

  
            And then they drove home, to a house that seemed a little less empty when they arrived than it had when they left.   

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, no, maybe so? What do you guys think? This was my first ever fan fiction of Bucky and Steve I wrote, and boy was it a wild ride. Comment! AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE 270 HITS?!! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN I AM TRASH


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